A Matter of Politics
by Maeve's Child
Summary: He was supposed to be dead; several people wished she was. This wasn't supposed to happen, but sometimes, it is inevitable for war to break out.
1. The Plays the Thing

_A/N: So this happened. _

_This takes place in the same headcanon world as Sensible Creatures and Pretty and Pragmatic. However, this is not a story about Kya Amell. She might still have some adventures, I really can't be certain. But she's living her version of happily ever after for the moment and didn't have any comment._

_This instead...well, I didn't plan it. I certainly didn't intend for it. But here it is anyway. _

_This contains significant spoilers for Dragon Age: Asunder. It also contains, well, you'll see. _

* * *

Being First Enchanter had sounded like an excellent idea, until it actually happened. Despite Adrian's protests, the others felt she should be more protected, not take a chance of being caught out in the open. They'd lost an inept First Enchanter; they didn't want to lose their new one. Besides, there was more important work for a First Enchanter to do than hurl fireballs at raging Templars, no matter how good at it she was.

Adrian disagreed vocally and venomously, but all to no avail. She was born to fight and for the first time in her life she was free to actually fight for what she believed in. It was the time and the place she had simply been _born_ to live in, but instead of fighting they wanted her to play political games and hide far from the front lines_._ It had driven her mad, but even she had a threshold for arguing, though Rhys would probably have disagreed.

Not that he was speaking to her. Not that he was likely to speak to her ever again.

It still stung a little. She couldn't say she loved him - Adrian wasn't entirely sure she'd experienced enough actual love in her life to even identify the emotion. The only clear recollection she had of the feeling was her mother. She had a father, of course, but she couldn't even conjure up an image of his face. She remembered her mother trying to tame her unruly hair into braids, she remembered warm blankets and off key singing. She remembered her mother loved her, at least until she accidentally set fire to the barn.

That was a fragile, conditional love. Yet it was supposed to be the most powerful. Adrian had seen it first hand when Wynne sacrificed herself to save that Templar Rhys had fallen for. Adrian's own mother was not nearly so committed. But that was a good lesson to learn in the end. It was better to be strong than let love sway you to do crazy things.

Love didn't mesh well with being a mage anyway.

Either way, Adrian didn't love Rhys, but he had been her friend for more than a decade and he'd been a passable enough lover back in the day. Now he despised her for ending the life of that Tranquil. Well, not that as much, since he knew as well as she did the man deliberately wanted an end, but more for the desperate action she took to force Wynne's hand. Adrian did not regret what she had done. It had to be done or they all be locked up in the tower, if not Tranquil, by now. And she would likely have to sacrifice far more than just an old friendship to set the mages free from the yoke of the Chantry.

She often wished she could meet the apostate who blew up the Chantry in Kirkwall. He was a man after her own defective little heart.

The Circle, such as it was, sent her to Montsimmard where the mages had fortified their tower as a base of operations. It was somewhere Adrian could make plans and more importantly (or so the rest of the senior enchanters seemed to think) try to court the Grey Wardens to the mage cause. They were the strongest fighting force in Thedas after all and despite claiming to stay out of anything that didn't involve darkspawn...well, everyone knew that was a lie. The Grey Wardens had been tied up in everything politic since they began during the first Blight.

Montsimmard was beautiful and remote, perched on the edge of a lake that seemed as big as the sea with forest and rolling fields and all the other beautiful pastoral things one saw in paintings of Orlais. It didn't stink like the city did and for that Adrian was thankful. It also had a significant lack of Templars and Seekers, at least for the moment, and that was even better. All in all, it was hardly a terrible place to be stuck, despite her overwhelming urge to blow things up.

And then, there was _him. _That had been the most surprising...surprise of them all.

Adrian hadn't recognized his face when she first saw him, though that was hardly surprising. He wore nothing to show his affiliation, and there was this unmistakable aura about him that let her know he was a Grey Warden. He wasn't in a position of leadership or she assumed she would have met him by now, but he had the bearing of a man used to leading. She found him immediately interesting - no matter what else she found appealing, strength and leadership were the ultimate aphrodisiac for Adrian. Rhys's significant lack of backbone and drive had been the nail in that particular coffin after all.

Certainly, it didn't hurt that he was tall with piercing eyes and dark hair and he wore a set of scuffed chevalier armor that had seen its share of battle. Most in the tavern opted for more comfortable attire, but he seemed at home in his armor. It was old fashioned looking, not like the ornate armor most noblemen favored these days. It was simple and strong and reminded her of something out of a storybook.

He didn't speak much and kept to himself. She watched him for several nights in the common room of the tavern near the Warden compound before she hard him say a single word. Even then, it was just to grouse that his drink of choice was currently unavailable. He'd requested some specific honey mead, something about Bannorn clover honey or some such that sounded foreign. His accent was clearly not Orlesian either, but she couldn't quite place it. Then again, Adrian had never been outside of Orlais, so her skill there was lacking.

She caught him watching her on the fourth night. She was frustrated by that point, having spent another day being given a thousand and one excuses why the Warden Commander couldn't see her again. She had more to drink than she should have and when an even more inebriated Warden bumped her table and knocked over the candle, she didn't even think about it before she righted it again and lit the wick with her magic.

First Enchanter or no, it wasn't a good idea to go around advertising her magic. She wanted to be free, but she wasn't stupid. She knew many feared magic - it was why she'd forgone her enchanter's robes for something nondescript when she visited the tavern, especially since she used it as an excuse to get away from her three fellow mage chaperones. First Enchanter yes, but entirely trusted to keep her temper on her own? Not so much.

Adrian caught him looking at her when the little flame danced from her fingertips. But he didn't seem frightened or even the least bit concerned. He also didn't look intrigued which was the other common reaction to a display of magic. Instead he looked oddly wistful, like he'd just seen something that reminded him of home. He discovered her catch him looking and he didn't bother to look embarrassed. He nodded at her in greeting, downed his tankard and left.

She was immediately even more intrigued. Who was this man that had neither fear nor interest in her magic? Who was he that looked like a general but drank mead alone like a commoner? Why did he look so lonely?

When she heard his name, it explained most of that away, though she definitely still had questions.

_Loghain Mac Tir._

Maker's Breath. Everyone in Orlais, even mages, knew who he was. Libertarian mages like Adrian often had a special fondness for him and she was certainly no exception. The Chantry was all tied up with the nobility in Orlais and often seemed like one in the same, so anyone who knocked one or the other down a peg was a hero in her book.

Adrian was no romantic, certainly, but the stories of Loghain Mac Tir and Maric Theirin were legendary. There were even new stories of how Loghain had been redeemed from the death of King Cailan and helped to end the Blight, then came to Orlais the heroic Warden. Some of the stories said he and the Hero of Ferelden were lovers, but in those stories he was usually dead, so she never gave them much credence.

It was as if a dashing knight in shining (tarnished and slight dented) armor walked out of the pages of a book. When he'd walked out that door, she somewhat expected she wouldn't see him again. Once she realized who he was, well, characters from stories rarely show up at your front door.

Of course, she was wrong.

The next morning, he was waiting for her outside the tower. She came outside in her black and green First Enchanter robes, expecting to see the same set of Grey Wardens that had accompanied her to the compound every morning, despite never getting to see anyone of importance. Instead, it was Loghain Mac Tir waiting for her.

"Good morning Warden," she said, wondering if she hid her surprise as well as she hoped.

"Enchanter...Adrian, it is?" he asked.

She liked the way he said her name. His Fereldan accent was exotic and his voice was deep and gravelly.

"Yes, though you aren't my usual...escort," she said. She was pleased to see him, but that didn't stop her from being annoyed by the constant watching. She pursed her lips. "One would think the Wardens would be less suspicious of mages."

"Warden mages, perhaps, though the current conflict being what it is," he shrugged and his creaked a little, "You can hardly blame them. That is not why I am here, however. I am here to tell you to not waste your time, today at least. I would not bother yourself for a month or more. The Warden Commander sent word to Weisshaupt. He will not meet with you until then."

"Why are you telling me this?" Adrian was honestly surprised. It was more open than anyone else had been, though she'd already worked this one out on her own. "None of your fellows seemed inclined to tell me anything."

Loghain gave her an expression that might almost have been a smile, though it reached nowhere near his eyes. "I have seen what happens when politicians make mages wait. And here in Montsimmard, that is what the Commander is, just a politician. He's hardly a warrior and no hero." He grunted in obvious disgust. "But whatever he is, he's also too stupid to know leaving a mage pacing outside his door every day is a bad idea."

Adrian laughed.

"Do you think I'll get frustrated and shoot a fireball at the door, Monsieur?" She clucked at him. "Do you think I am so foolish?"

"No, not foolish," he said perfunctorily. "Just with a mage's temperament. And a woman's. I've known both well enough."

"But you do not know me," she cocked her head at him and considered. He didn't seem the type to be turned away by a bit of flirting. Adrian was lonely. She rarely indulged herself in anything beyond flirting - men became too attached and it was too awkward in the tower where one could never get away but that didn't mean she didn't enjoy the flirting, the wordplay, _the chase. _ And he was just standing there, flouting his Commander's rules as if he hadn't a care in the world. It was immeasurably arousing. "Though I would not mind if you did, _know me_, that is. It does seem I will have much time to wait, after all."

"Are you propositioning me?" He wasn't embarrassed, but did seem a bit taken aback by her bluntness.

"I didn't expect to get your armor off quite so swiftly, if that's what you mean," she grinned at him, not bothering to be coy. Despite her intoxication by powerful men, she only knew of them by reputation and in stories. She was flying on instinct, but she knew she wanted nothing more than to get and keep his attention. "But I know no one but my assistants and they are driving me to...what did you say...express my mage's temperament? I could use something to distract me."

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm hardly the best company for conversation," he said. "But I," he paused and shook his head. "Am I actually considering this?" He said it as if he was thinking aloud. "I am clearly a madman."

"Good," Adrian laughed. "That _will_ be distracting."

* * *

Loghain reminded himself that he was dead, so whatever ridiculous thing he did to entertain himself didn't really matter.

When he left the mage at her tower with the promise to meet her for the evening meal, he was feeling an interesting melange of emotions ranging from anxiety and arousal mixed with a significant amount of guilt.

Thinking in Orlesian words like _melange_ wasn't helping either. He'd been in this Maker forsaken place for entirely too long. And the worst part was that sometimes he was even beginning to like it.

He liked the food. He couldn't really articulate how much that vexed him.

This little mage, she _was_ a brash one, and he couldn't deny that he liked that in a woman. There was something about a woman who wasn't afraid of what she believed in, even if that thing was finding a way to seduce him. During his long years of celibacy, between Celia's death and meeting Kya (ignoring the ritual with the swamp witch, of course, which he always did since he liked to be able to sleep at night) he had moments of wishing for a woman like that to appear in his life. Like Cauthrien yet she was only bold on the battlefield and so timid everywhere else, at least when it came to him. Now that his old life was far away, he allowed himself more moments of idle speculation.

Loghain had more regrets than he had once realized, though dying wasn't one of them.

It wasn't that he didn't desire things to be different. He couldn't fool himself that much. There were nights that there was a burning in his chest so visceral he thought for certain he was dying. It wasn't a lie, the letter he sent to Kya.

_The Deep Roads are calling, and as much as I have fought it, it is to no avail._

The nightmares and the pain of being apart from her were killing him. He wrote each word in agony, fingers stained with ink, hands shaking with the effort. The dreams were horror; a bloated _thing_ that stalked him, screamed vulgarity at him, threatened him by name. Sometimes, he saw it even when he was awake. His fingers were numb all the time.

There were Wardens going on their Calling, heading to Orzammar once their goodbyes were done. He planned to meet his end with them.

But then suddenly, the nightmares were gone. It was like the sun broke through the clouds or some other terrible metaphor he was useless to come up with. Whatever best described it, it was over. The hallucinations ended.

Instead of leaving for Orzammar with the latest group of Wardens, they gave him recruits to train in sword and shield and in archery from cover, all well within his area of expertise. He thanked the Maker for the distraction and worked himself and his recruits so hard it was surprising he didn't kill them. But no matter how hard he pushed himself, there was still this persistent energy in him. Despite fighting against it, he penned and then burned a new letter to Kya Amell every night.

It was like drowning. He struggled to breathe at times.

He wrote one final letter and bared his soul to her in it. He explained that somehow his Calling had faded and he'd been given yet one more chance to live and be alive, _and by Andraste please come to Orlais_. It was unbelievably selfish, but he'd missed out on a _life_ already and if there was still a chance...

He asked her to marry him but left the letter unsent on his desk, waiting. He didn't know what he was waiting for until it happened.

Eventually, official word came from Ferelden that Warden Commander Amell had dispatched a sentient broodmother. One of those talking darkspawn she told him about, and although he'd never had the misfortune of seeing one in person, he heard Kya's tales of the broodmother they dispatched in the Deep Rods outside Caridin's Cross. It explained his nightmares and their secession.

Unofficial word trailed along with it, as it always did. What he'd insinuated, what he'd pushed them into, _what he'd wanted when he wasn't being a selfish old prick_ had happened...after he _died._ Warden Commander Amell moved the Howe boy into her rooms in the Vigil and it was almost scandalous that way they were carrying on.

_They went to Gwaren together and put up a memorial for Loghain Mac Tir and wasn't that funny?_

Hysterical even.

He burned the letter.

That was almost a decade ago, but if he thought about it too much, it was still raw, like poking the socket of a lost tooth. He hated that it bothered him. He went to Montsimmard with a clearer heart and purpose than he'd had in many years. He was happy to see the little light that flickered in Nathaniel Howe's eyes when he said Kya's name.

But when he left Ferelden, he thought he was dying. Any man can be alone for a time and be selfless, especially when that time is so perfectly limited by death in battle on the other side.

Now? Now the Blight was over, and though there was certainly war, technically it was a war that didn't concern the Grey Wardens - some lordling trying to take the throne, and mages trying to blaze their way to being free. Once, he would have not had a second thought siding with the Chantry. Loghain was not a devout man by any means, but he was just a man who's first taste of magic was almost dying at the hand of a Witch of the Wilds.

But things change. Mages, it turned out, were just people, much as Grey Wardens were. Some were decent and some were assholes. Becoming a Grey Warden had muddied all the colors in the world.

It was easier when the world was black and white.

That _was_ where war came into play. There was your comrades and your enemies. It didn't matter in the soldiers in the other uniforms were decent men that loved their mothers. All that mattered is they opposed you and you need to end them. Loghain knew the drumbeat of war, and it was a dance he preferred if he could have it. If the Commander asked his opinion, he would tell him to side with the mages. No one deserved to be locked away for an accident of birth. He knew that blood and the name you were born with didn't have to define you. Everything about Loghain was not what he'd been born to.

It didn't have anything to do with the little curly haired mage he'd pegged as the mage representative the first time she sauntered into the tavern, all red hair and bravado. Of course not. That would be absurd.

He was _sixty_, by the Maker. He should grow a beard and tell stories about past battles and make jokes about his lack of libido. That was what old men did, after all.

This damned Grey Warden business was not letting things progress _naturally_, as it were. He was blasted _sixty_ and he'd been celibate for more of his life...Maker, longer than he'd ever had a lover, despite being married for fifteen years. And here he was, with a Grey Warden appetite that was most certainly not going to be contented or sated with food.

For the past eight years, he'd visited more brothels than he had the entire rest of his life combined, but that was empty and afterward he often wished he's stayed in his quarters and taken care of it himself. Until the next time, and then the next. It seemed immeasurably more wise than getting involved with someone again. Despite knowing Kya was likely Kya _Howe_ by now, it almost felt like betrayal.

Then again, the opportunity hadn't ever just dropped in his lap before. And wasn't Kya the one who taught him that regrets were the one thing you couldn't change? Didn't she tell him not to waste the life he still had in worrying about what came before?

Maybe this wasn't what she had in mind, but he _was_ dead. Might as well live it up.


	2. Act One: The Seduction

Adrian wasn't sure what she expected from an evening with a legendary figure, but she hadn't expected it to be so... comfortable. Not that she had the opportunity to spend much time being courted, it didn't feel all that different from nights spent chatting with Rhys. It was a little awkward at first, but she'd seen to that herself with her earlier forward behavior.

She found herself apologizing for it before he stopped her. She was glad he stopped her, just for the sake of honesty; she really wasn't very sorry. Not that she was a paragon of truthfulness, but she would be a bald faced liar to say she didn't want him, just sitting there across the table being devastatingly masculine. The Warden blue tunic he'd chosen instead of his usual armor made her want to stare at his eyes and the streaks of silver that threaded though his shoulder length black hair. Hair like that just begged to be touched.

She knew he was quite a bit older than she; she didn't even remember the end of the occupation of Ferelden. She did remember hearing stories about it as she grew up, especially once she came to the White Spire and there was more time for stories in the dark of the dormitories. Loghain was a man when he became the Hero of River Dane, a young man certainly, but still a man.

But Loghain was aging well. He showed his years in the lines around his eyes and a particular gauntness to his cheeks, but it didn't diminish him. She found the planes and valleys of his face fascinating. She had heard Grey Wardens usually died young, but perhaps that was just a tale?

His reticent manner made her feel more at ease than she expected it would. She found herself relaying the tale of her adventure with Rhys and Wynne, of course leaving out some of the more specific details. She didn't want this to end before it had even started. She wasn't sorry for what she'd done, but she knew it wasn't exactly a polite conversation topic. Interestingly, it never really occurred to her that he would have known Wynne, despite knowing they both were connected to the Hero of Ferelden.

Adrian had been enraptured by the entire idea that Wynne had known the Hero, _The Warden_; it was odd that her mind had separated Loghain from the same story. She'd gone all misty talking with Wynne about it. Of course. she'd been far more into her cups that night than this one. Maybe it was by design, or maybe it was only that she knew Loghain's part in the tale through half truths and rumors. It would be good to know the real story. A mage saving Thedas from the Blight might be a good banner to fly in the face of the Warden Commander.

"Enchanter Wynne," Loghain didn't sound entirely pleased at the feel of her name in his mouth. "We did not see eye to eye, though in the end she stopped glaring at me and certainly did an admirable job at healing us after the destruction of the Archdemon. She will be missed for her skills at healing, if not for her sharp tongue."

Adrian felt entirely out of her depth, despite her mind trying to find a way to use this to her advantage in her eventual political machinations. _The Archdemon. _Loghain had seen things that made her own adventure look like a vacation to the seashore.

"What was it like? And what was she like, the Hero of Ferelden?" she couldn't help but ask but immediately regretted it when she saw the almost imperceptible twitch in Loghain's jaw. _Maybe that was a sore spot?_

"The Hero of Ferelden," he repeated, his voice just a shade more than a sigh. "She was, _is_, a rare woman though I have not seen her in many years. I have never known anyone quite like her." The expression on his face made Adrian rethink which of the tales she'd heard was the truth.

"I...maybe I shouldn't ask," she said, knowing she was going to ask anyway. "But I have heard tales where she was your lover. I can't help but wonder if that is true."

Loghain raised an eyebrow at her. "I didn't expect you'd be interested in hearing about previous...entanglements. Women rarely do."

"Well, I'm not like that," she admitted. "Besides, I don't see why any of this has to be so complicated. We are both adults and we both have larger goals. I've made the mistake of...letting feelings get in the way of my goals before and I don't intend on doing that again. You don't have to hide anything in an attempt to protect me."

Maker, that sounded cold. But Rhys had taught her more than one thing about feelings. He taught her she had no idea what love was and even more importantly that she had no desire to find out. This man was intriguing; she was enjoying his company, the sound of his voice, even the way he smelled like leather and oil and steel, so there was no harm in his company. As long as she remembered to protect herself, that was.

Loghain looked unconvinced. "I'm hardly a man to go spout off about such things and to be frank my dear, I don't know that I can trust you just yet."

"Fair enough." She couldn't fault that logic. "Another time perhaps, when I've earned your trust?"

"I assume that means you intend for a repeat of tonight's performance?" he asked as if he was unsure, or maybe if he was testing her. Adrian wasn't sure what to make of it.

"I didn't know the play was over," she said, a jeu de mots that she found so enjoyable. "I was hoping there was a second act."

He raised his eyebrow again. She liked that expression and hoped she could get him to repeat it. "I have nowhere else to be, though perhaps we can choose a more...benign subject to discuss. Like _darkspawn_ or your war."

"_My_ war?" she laughed. "I suppose it is in a way, though I must also confess I don't trust you well enough to explain my part in its inception." How would you tell someone how you euthanized a man and framed someone else for the deed...and still manage to bed him? Adrian was fairly certain it wasn't possible.

"Then we are even," he said. "And I find that agreeable." Loghain quickly downed the dregs of his wine, gesturing at her to do the same. She followed suit without even thinking about it. He seemed the type of man used to being followed, and until recently, Adrian was used to following. It was probably a habit she should break.

"So maybe instead of taking the chance at more inappropriate conversation," he continued. "We should do an _appropriate_ activity instead. Perhaps a walk in the warmth of the evening?"

Adrian tittered. "How fitting," she said. "The gallant knight and the moonlight. I might just swoon."

She hoped sarcasm wouldn't turn him off.

It didn't.

Instead, he stood and offered her his arm. "My lady?"

"My Lord...wait," she paused. "In Ferelden, you were a Teyrn, that is what it is called, yes?"

He nodded, "Yes, but I am no longer a nobleman, if that's what you are asking."

"No, no," she waved his denial away. "Don't ruin my moment." She smiled and curtsied. "Your...Grace? That is the right term?"

Loghain shook his head, but indulged her. "Yes, it is, though I haven't heard it in years."

"It is a nice title," she said, wrapping her fingers around his arm as he lead her towards the door. "You are actually very graceful, for such a big man. It suits you."

He looked down at her and seemed both puzzled and pleased at her compliment. He nodded at her, a common gesture for him, though this one was tempered by an amused half smile.

"Thank you, my lady," he said in a mockery of the most formal of speech. "You are too kind."

* * *

The streets of Montsimmard were like any other in Orlais, if a bit cleaner and more well kept than the average. The presence of the mages and Wardens did much to keep the streets safe at night. So instead of thugs and other rabble, the streets were quiet. It was later, far later than he'd realized with the moon high up in the sky casting a pale pallor over the buildings. There were a few oil lamps that lined the streets, but not so many that it chased away the shadows.

Loghain was surprised he'd spent as much time with Adrian as he had. He had expected to talk himself out of this by now. Not that she was unpleasant company, but if he was to be honest with himself, he primarily agreed to their meeting with entirely impure motivations. She was a lovely and curvaceous little thing who gave the impression she would be enthusiastic about everything she applied herself to. He was rather thinking she might apply herself to him, and put a dent in this unbelievably distracting Grey Warden appetite of his.

It bothered him that he was considering using her like that, but she seemed so matter of fact about the idea, no more emotionally involved than any whore..._Maker_, that was not helping matters any. She wasn't a whore, she was a First Enchanter of the Circle of Magi. She was...she was at the very least not here to take his coin and amuse him at his request.

Adrian seemed to notice his internal turmoil or at least his extended silence. She gripped his arm a little tighter and looked up at him as they turned a corner and slipped into a narrow passage between two buildings.

"Are you well?" she asked. Her voice had the softest lilt to it, a less pronounced accent than many in Orlais. It didn't bother him; in fact he found he actually enjoyed listening to her speak. It was a good thing, she had a lot to say.

"Yes," he overcame his discomfort and managed to look at her for a moment. He realized he didn't know what color her eyes were and couldn't tell in wan moonlight with only the distant flicker of the lamp on the corner behind them. "Though I'm afraid I am not as good company as I had intended."

"I think," she said, not missing a beat, "For all that I do not know you yet, I think that you think too much."

Loghain snorted. "That would be an accurate assessment. I am not particularly good...," he waved his hand, gesturing at nothing. "...at this sort of thing."

"At which?" she said, her mouth twisting a little. It made the faint shadow of a dimple appear next to her mouth. "I did not intend for this to be anything that required too much thinking." She stopped and slid her arm out from under his, leaning herself against a stack of crates under the eves of the building. Loghain stopped as well, turning back to look at her. Her face was shadowed, as was his own.

"If I have offended you in some way," she continued. She looked like she was going to say something further but shook her head instead. "I'm not particularly known for my tact. I just thought...well, never mind what I thought."

He shook his own head in reply, feeling a different soft of guilt. She was blaming herself for his reluctance, and it wasn't fair. He didn't plan on insulting her.

"No, no," he said quickly. "You have most certainly not offended me. You have been nothing but kind. I am just unaccustomed to..."

"To being seduced?" He couldn't tell if she was smiling, but her tone made it sound as if she was. "I find that hard to believe. A handsome man like you, with such a dashing life story? It seems unlikely you spend any time alone you do not wish to."

Loghain couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Perhaps that would be true if I was a more...approachable person. But I have cultivated my reputation of being difficult and unpleasant so carefully I am rarely bothered." It was true, truer than he was used to admitting to. The shadows always made him willing to say things he would normally not say. "And I am indeed difficult and opinionated, so it is a good deal like the truth, though even I must admit I am less of a bear than I let on."

_The Deep Roads, the wood between Denerim and Amaranthine_ . It was becoming a habit, speaking to beautiful women in the dark where he couldn't quite see them. Not that this was anything like those moments. Those were moments of consummating feelings he'd hidden for a long time. This was something far less complicated, yet here he was persisting on making it more difficult than it had to be.

"Why don't you want anyone to know you?" she asked him. It was a direct and honest question and one he wasn't entirely sure he had an answer for.

Instead of thinking too deeply about it, he shrugged. "It is just my way, I suppose. Maric was the charming one; I was ... I don't even know the right term, though I'm sure there are several pejoratives that would fit."

"You are very hard on yourself," she said as she boosted herself up to sit on the edge of the crate. "It seems so unnecessary." She paused thoughtfully for a moment, listening to the sound of a woman laughing somewhere down the street. It was followed by the punctuation of a door slamming shut and the laughter disappeared. "Let me ask you, Monsieur. Let me just come out and ask it," she said. "Do you find me attractive?"

"I may be old old, but I have not gone blind," he said, maybe a little too quickly. "You are a uniquely beautiful woman. Any man who did not see that would be blind indeed." He elaborated more than usual, but why not say what he was thinking? How many times had he not told Rowan she was beautiful when she could have used to hear it?

"Not so old," she replied. "You really do not realize you are handsome, do you?" She laughed with a little sadness mixed in. "Perhaps it makes you more handsome to not know. Whether that is so or not, _I _find you quite handsome and I see no reason we should not indulge in a little pleasure amidst all the frustrations of our current situations." She held out her hand to him.

It was an offer, a simple offer of companionship that he was in dire need of. There was no denying he was attracted to her. There was something about her presence that appealed to him and thankfully nothing she'd said or done had done anything to dim that. Perhaps her stories and less than subtle innuendo only served enhance it a bit. She was not open, and Loghain was a good enough judge of character to detect that she was less than honest when it suited her. But that was...something that did not for a moment remind him of the women he'd spent so much time trying to forget.

There were parallels, but they were superficial. He still wrestled with this conscience, looking at her proffered hand and debating with himself. He'd never truly enjoyed a woman without his heart or his honor being all tied up in it before.

Loghain looked at Adrian. He could only see her outline and the glint of blue moonlight on her curls. She held her hand out still, like a lifeline for a moment of simple pleasure, and he'd had entirely too few pleasures, hadn't he?

He took her hand and let her pull him close. She reached up with her other hand and brushed it against the stubble on his cheek. It sent a shock of pleasure through him and he shivered.

"You don't let people touch you often, do you?" she asked, laying the palm of her hand against his face, the tips of her fingers behind the ridge of his jaw.

"No, I don't." It was merely a fact and one that didn't usually bother him except his body was reminding him vividly of all the places he'd like her to touch him instead.

"Let me remedy that." She pulled him forward and before he had another chance to think better of it, he let her kiss him. Her lips were soft and she tasted of wine and smelled faintly of vanilla and amber. His body reacted, his hand pressing into the small of her back and sliding her forward on the crate until it was only the pressure of his hand holding her up even with him.

He felt her teeth as she nipped at his lower lip, a breathy moan escaping from her.

"Mmm," her voice was a throaty purr. "Loghain."

He could only growl in reply, his need for this stealing his ability to respond. He ground himself against her, the edge of his hands scraping against the wood crate and they slid from her waist to the curve of her ass. She was too short, so he lifted her and her arms twined around his neck.

"I should," he finally panted against her neck, "I should just take you right here in this alley."

Adrian was breathless to reply and instead just squirmed against him.

"But it is too dark," he said, though he just rubbed himself against her again instead of stepping back. "I want to see you. I don't want to miss anything."

He saw the flash of her teeth as she smiled and her head fell back, giving him more access to the soft skin on her throat.

"I would enjoy that," she said as if she was having trouble finding enough air. "I have a feeling I will enjoy _you _however you choose to have me."

He laughed. Her brazen words, her naughty tone; he'd never had anything quite like her before.

"Let's find out, shall we?"


	3. Act Two: Vulnerability and Sweat

He took her to his room in the Grey Warden compound, specifically mentioning the fact that the walls were thicker than average for soundproofing, for Grey Warden nightmares and Grey Warden appetites.

Apparently, Wardens were hungry for _everything._

Adrian felt like she was the main course at the end of a long and drawn out meal and he'd not even gotten her robes off yet. Not that it was the usual flailing - even other mages sometimes struggled with all the clasps and hooks and buckles of the more intricate robes. Loghain however seemed intimately familiar with their workings, answering her question about whether or not the Hero of Ferelden was his lover without ever saying a word. The Hero was a mage after all, and Loghain had the kind of familiarity with her robes that could only come with practice.

Adrian was _not_ complaining. She wasn't entirely truthful that his past didn't concern her - in fact, it both aroused and unnerved her that she was going to bed the same man as such a powerful woman. Though she did wonder why they weren't still together since Loghain did not give the impression he was particularly free with his attentions, despite the fact that they just met and he was slowly kissing his way from the arch of her foot and up her leg.

She forgot what she was thinking when he reached her knee and paused, inhaling deeply and looking enraptured. He rubbed the soft skin at the back of her knee with a feather touch and Adrian jumped.

"That tickles," she laughed, sounding as is she'd just run up a flight of stairs. She should have been aroused; she was, but fear was creeping down the back of her neck. She tried to shut it up.

He kissed where his finger had touched and then continued north.

"My, my," she said, "I had no idea." She tried to sound confident, but she could hear the waver in her voice. She hoped he would attribute it to her breathlessness and not to her lack of courage.

He paused in his ascent, mid-thigh and looked up at her, his blue eyes hooded in the light from the fireplace and the several candles he had insisted she light using her magic. _I want to see you;_ it had a dual meaning apparently.

"No idea of what?"

"That you would be so ...thorough," she said, making sure her tone conveyed her level of appreciation for his efforts and masked her trepidation. She wanted this, but she struggled.

He chuckled. "Perhaps I seem...cool, but once my fire is lit, I burn hot."

"How poetic," she replied, weaving her fingers through his hair. Her hand was shaking, but she tried hard to keep it still.

"I have my moments." He continued his journey.

"I was not opposed to the alley, quick and nearly anonymous," she said, trying to sound conversational. _Maker did that sound as awful to him as it did to her?_ "That is the sort of thing I am used to," she added, suddenly feeling the need to explain herself. "In the tower, I mean, there's no time to foreplay, just...I'm not used to this level of attention."

Loghain stopped and looked up at her. She wondered if he could see how nervous she felt. _Nervous_ hardly touched the feeling if she was to be honest. She was terrified. Adrian's mouth was usually far braver than the rest of her and despite her sultry language, she was not nearly as experienced or detached as she let on. Rhys was the last man she'd actually slept with, and that had been years ago.

_Andraste's lacy britches, wasn't that pathetic?_ And here she was with, of all men in all of Thedas, Loghain Mac Tir the Hero of River Dane, Teyrn of somewhere and Grey Warden and Maker knows what else he could lay claim to, between her legs and treating her like a goddess...and she was _scared._

She wasn't sure if it was performance anxiety or fear he'd get the rest of her robes off and be unimpressed, but she was shaking like a leaf. The alley would have been preferable. No time to think about it.

Loghain slid up gracefully from his more intimate position until he was laying beside her. Now she'd done it. It was going to be over before it started. Adrian closed her eyes. She felt the warm leathery skin of Loghain's fingertips on her chin tilting her face up.

"Open your eyes." He said it quietly but firmly and Adrian complied. She swallowed. "Are you not well?"

"No, I..." She shook her head and looked away. He held her chin so she couldn't turn her head, though she tried.

He waited until she got up her nerve to meet his eyes again. "If you have changed your mind, do not worry yourself about offending me." Loghain gave her a sad smile. "Perhaps I am not what you expected after all? Would you prefer I saw you back to the tower?"

"No, no," she said quickly. That was the last thing she wanted but how did she overcome her own doubts without laying them on him? Oddly, she wanted to tell him everything and she had no idea why that was. She shouldn't..nay, she _couldn't_ trust him. Hero or no, she'd just met him and besides being a legend, he also had a reputation for treachery. Before becoming a Warden, he nearly destroyed them. He quit the field at that battle that killed the previous King of Ferelden. That was downplayed in the tales, but it was there.

"What is it then?" He was still in the bed, still touching her face which Adrian took as a good sign. She slid her hand up and encircled his wrist, marveling at its thickness and the ridges of the bones. His skin was warm and weathered. Just the heat of his wrist gave her butterflies and sent warmth flushing through her. She wanted this. She just didn't want to disappoint.

"It's...I may talk as if _this_ is a regular activity of mine," she insinuated instead of just coming out and saying it. "But truth be told, its been years since anyone has touched me other than myself."

He kissed her fingers still on his wrist. "That's nearly a crime." He smiled. "That is something I know well, lady. I spent much of my life without enjoying a woman's touch. Even now, I was concerned about joining you." He looked at her carefully, inspecting her. "Perhaps we should have fewer expectations, and just see what happens? If I have learned nothing else in the Blight and afterwards, it is perhaps that though a moment only comes once, there is no need to force what happens. But do not...worry with me. I don't want you to impress me, and there is nothing to _live up to_ if that what worries you. We are here together in this room and there is no one else here with us."

He sounded so wise. His voice was soothing and made her feel calm and very, very warm.

"Yes," she said. "You are right." Adrian turned her face to kiss the palm of his hand where it had been laying against her cheek. "I want...I do want you, I just didn't want to disappoint. I am no one special, First Enchanter or no."

"Oh I don't know about that," Loghain chuckled. "I have a particular fondness for special women, even when it has been to my detriment. I have a feeling you are very special indeed."

Loghain was turning out to be a different man than she expected.

"I wasn't expecting to like you so much," Adrian blurted out, her notorious mouth leaping ahead of her brain again. "I honestly thought I could...well, you know, and then continue on with my waiting for your Commander to let me in his office."

"Not my Commander," he replied quickly enough that it seemed to have more than one meaning. "Just the Commander I have to deal with. But I thank you. This isn't the evening I imagined either. I got the impression you were a different sort of woman. Though I think I like this one better."

Adrian felt relieved and suddenly her arousal returned with a vengeance. She moved her hand from his wrist, up his forearm, over the silky hair dusted over the cords of tendons and muscle until she reached his elbow where the sleeve of his tunic was bunched up. Her fingertips felt cool against the heat of his skin. She slipped her hand around his elbow and used his arm to pull herself forward, pressing the length of her body against him.

Calm speech and no expectations aside, her new position made her well aware that he was certainly still more than interested in her physical attentions, even if he thought he might still like to talk to her afterward.

Adrian leaned forward and kissed the hollow between Loghain's collarbones exposed in the vee of his tunic, moving her lips until she felt the pulse in his neck. He lifted one of his longer legs over hers, trapping her thigh tightly against him. He was almost shockingly aroused.

For a second she wondered at him. He was certainly no young man and she'd heard that older men tended to be less _able_ as they aged. She started to speak before she had a chance to stop herself.

"So is this what happens when you are a Grey Warden?" she asked. "I didn't expect a man your age...oh _Maker_." She felt herself blushing furiously. "I'm sorry."

Loghain laughed. It was an honest laugh and his arm tightened around her. "For what, noticing I'm not thirty-five?" He laughed again. "I'm aware, and ...actually yes, this _is_ apparently what happens when you're a Grey Warden, at least when you become one at fifty-one instead of twenty, as most do. Or at least so it seems, since I'm the only Warden of my age that I know of. Most...die young." He didn't explain and Adrian got the impression he wouldn't from the finality his tone.

Adrian shook her head where it was still pressed against his chest. She loved the way he smelled.

"Well, now that I've said another foolish thing," she said. She lifted her head back and looked at him. She searched his face; he looked wry and amused and still comfortable wrapped in her arms and entangled in the bed. Her own stupidity aside, there was no where else she would rather be.

"Maybe," she said, stretching up to put her mouth level with his. "I should do something with my mouth other than talk."

"I have a list," Loghain replied, completely droll.

Adrian gasped a laugh and kissed him. She was sure that was on the list somewhere.

* * *

Adrian's sudden lack of confidence made her endearing. It wasn't in Loghain's plan to find her anything but undressed, but there it was. Then again, he hadn't really had a plan when he walked into this. Yet, instead of being irritated by the idea that there might be someone worth talking to underneath all that red hair, it actually made him feel more relaxed and more willing to go through with it.

He'd felt a little guilty, wanting to just...well, just _fuck_ her and move on. This felt a bit more like something he could live with, though it was truly the last thing on his agenda. But Loghain quickly reminded himself they weren't getting married or even having a relationship, they were just going to at least be friends as they jumped into bed together.

People do it all the time.

Touching her was certainly satisfying and distracting enough that he didn't waste too many further thoughts on whether on not it was a good idea.

It was an adventure of a different kind, exploring her, especially now that he was trying to be patient - not an easy task considering the effect she was having on him. Probably a sign of his own failure as a human being, but he was more aroused by discovering the vulnerability under her bravado.

Granted, he'd also discovered that it wasn't her robes creating that fetching dip to her waist and plump curve of her hips. That might have something or another to do with the blood thrumming in his ears. He'd never been with a woman like this before. Ferelden women were taller, with broader shoulders and as a general rule more lean. He'd been drawn to warrior women, adventurous types who lived lives that molded their bodies into sleek shapes. Even his proper ladywife Celia had been slender and strong from her years as her father's assistant.

Adrian was short, shorter than Kya or Celia had been by several inches. She couldn't have been taller than his shoulders. But she wasn't thin or taut anywhere. She was all soft edges and plumpness. He had no idea if he even liked that until he got his hands on her. Now that he had, he was beginning to rethink his entire opinion of Orlesian women.

It had been long enough now and with Orlais in political turmoil? He was free to enjoy this particular Orlesian bounty with as much enthusiasm as it...as _she_ deserved.

Loghain hoped that he could convince her to be as brave in his bed as she was outside of it. Maybe not today, but there was always tomorrow. It was going to be some time before a message returned from Weisshaupt, and the Commander being the toady that he was wouldn't even see her until he received it. Add to that this burgeoning friendship and that could that make tomorrow a definite possibility. He had an image in his head of her astride him, illuminated by candlelight with her hair wild around her and now that he had a feel for her body...he growled with sudden impatience.

He rolled on top of her, his brains supplying that image nearly undoing him. He tucked his knees under hers so he could sit up long enough to fling his tunic off over his head - it was as hot as midsummer in here. He also knew women seemed intrigued by the myriad of scars crisscrossing his chest. The hair on his chest had gone grey, but he didn't think she would mind and the breathy sigh and the heat in her eyes reassured him.

With practiced ease, he manged to finish opening his way into her robe, peeling the layers back like a black flower petal opening in the sun, exposing her pale skin to him. She was amazing, all white and pink and amber freckles. Her perfume, vanilla and ambergris and sandalwood, clung to her skin just faintly and he buried his face in her neck to breathe it in more deeply.

He felt her fingers on his hips, cool little fingers curving over the edge of his trews, one reaching in between their bodies to tug at laces. Apparently, she'd gotten over her earlier hesitation, now that they moved past words. He lifted his head to look down at her; shifting his hips to allow her fingers access. Her face was intent with concentration as she deftly untied the laces and loosened them.

Skin touched skin making Loghain chuckle deep in his throat. She didn't bother with smallclothes. Maybe it was an Orlesian affectation or maybe she wasn't quite so hesitant as she seemed before. Either way, there was just a slight change in angle, a shift of his hips and her and then the familiar and yet new sensation of being inside of her. She was small, but she was soft and slick and her thighs were like hot white silk on either side of him.

Adrian made a sound that neared on being a word but didn't quite make it there. He looked down at her, still and hard as a stone but with his hips steady but poised to move. Loghain was amazed at his own restraint, but he stayed still watching her, waiting.

She moved first, fingers digging into his tailbone and her hips pressing up against him. She was stronger than she looked.

Loghain closed his eyes almost involuntarily, a wave of pleasure washing over him. Now that it had begun, now that he was sheathed to the hilt in her, the enthusiasm he'd earlier hoped for appeared. Her entire demeanor changed. The rumor was that she lived up to the reputation that redheads often had; temperamental, passionate and a bit unpredictable. She ground her hips against him, rolling her body like the ocean and he was immeasurably grateful she was exactly as the gossip said.

"Maker," she panted up at him, one hand still firmly on the base of his spine. The other buried itself in his hair that had grown too long in the last years because it seemed to much bother to cut it. Her fist made a tail of his hair, tugging his face closer to hers and at that moment his lack of decision making to cut his hair was handsomely rewarded. He felt her lips move against his; he couldn't hear what she said over the throbbing of his heartbeat as he struggled to control himself.

It had been a long time and he _wanted_ it all the time. Sixty years old and years of practice were not going to prevent his inevitable release if he moved his hips.

She spoke louder, pulling again on the length of his hair. _Andraste's blood, how did he never realize how good that would feel until this moment?_

"Please Loghain," Adrian's voice was nearly panicked. "Please."

She didn't have to clarify for him to know exactly what she wanted. His body knew it just as well and let its desire for the same be known with savage intensity. Loghain watched her eyes widen when she felt him move inside her without moving.

"I want it." Her voice was desperate now, her inhibitions evaporated. "Everything."

He moved, carefully. Stilled. Moved again. His breath caught in his throat before he gave in to the animal of his nature and gave her exactly that. He heard a sound before he realized it was his own voice. Adrian was clinging to him, her hips matching his staccato rhythm and her own cries matching his.

She was louder, but that was as it should be.

That was his last thought before he saw stars. For a moment, he wasn't sure if he was having an orgasm or dying.

Once his brain started to function again and he had the sense of mind to shift his weight off of her chest before she suffocated underneath him, it supplied the entirely helpful information that _bloody hell its been too long since that happened _ and a nice useful addition of_ that was over entirely too quickly._

Adrian didn't seem to mind. She seemed content and sweaty, her head lolling against his shoulder. She kissed the ridge of scar tissue that curved over the far end of his collarbone at his shoulder. The infamous West hill scar, but she didn't comment on it. She probably didn't know.

Other than the basics and one sarcastic application of _your grace_ and she'd hardly mentioned that he was a hero. He liked it.

"So," she said softly, her lips moving against the damp skin on his shoulder. "When can I see you again?"

Loghain surprised himself by replying without hesitation, "In the morning. Now sleep, unless you have some spell to put out the candles first. Because I am definitely not moving until tomorrow." Loghain felt a little breeze and then the room went dark except for the embers from the fireplace. "That's convenient."

He heard Adrian chuckle and then sigh before she curled up a little to be closer, if that was actually possible. He broke his word and moved a bit after all, but only enough to drag the coverlet over the top of them both before falling into a quiet, dreamless sleep.


	4. Intermission:This Thing(Isn't Happening)

Adrian woke up alone.

It took her a moment to get her bearings and remember where she was. Once it hit her, she sat up so quickly her head spun. She looked around the room and there was no sign of Loghain. Instead, the fire had been stoked, making the room pleasantly warm and there was a steaming mug on the table nearby.

Wrapping the coverlet around herself (she wasn't entirely sure where her robes had ended up) she made her way across the room to find hot black tea and a frilly pastry waiting on a plate. It looked like a spiral of bread, but Adrian knew what this was. Inside it would be filled with something wonderful, usually fruit or sweet cheese or if she was lucky, both. Either way, it was a decadent thing to have for breakfast. She smiled at it.

Loghain didn't seem the type to eat pastry for breakfast. She supposed she did and he was nothing if not observant.

Adrian took the cup to take a sip of the tea and discovered a square of parchment folded underneath it. She unfolded it, half expecting a short explanation of why what happened last night couldn't happen again.

_A-_

_Duty calls, but meet me tonight at the lakeshore? We can talk politics. I'll bring wine. _

_-L_

Adrian could not have been more pleased. Well, not unless the Warden Commander was at the door offering his services to help the Circle break free from the Chantry.

That would be an entirely different sort of gratification, but one she was going to have to return her focus to. This_ thing_ was a pleasant distraction, but she had work to do. Hopefully she could find her robes and return to her assistants before they sent out a search party. But first, she was going to eat this pastry and drink this tea and enjoy herself.

There had to be a few perks of being First Enchanter and having a little bit of freedom from never ending demands needed to be one of them. It certainly wasn't being well liked. She felt more sympathy for Edmonde now than she ever had while he was alive. Poor bastard.

_Poor Adrian._

She sighed and absently took a bite of the pastry. Cheese and peaches. She missed that in the last year, since they'd cut off the mages from trips into the city back at the Spire. She used to go with Rhys into Val Royeaux and the pastries were always the first stop.

Rhys liked cheese. Adrian liked peaches.

Sometimes, he used to kiss her.

Adrian swallowed hard and it suddenly felt like she ate a mouthful of sand. She gritted her teeth, rinsed away the taste with the bitterness of the tea and tossed the rest into the fireplace.

She'd meet Loghain tonight, but she couldn't forget what this was. It was a way to amuse herself and blow off some steam, but that was all. She couldn't afford to get attached to someone again. She wasn't that sort of girl; not anymore. She had to be the person that was useful and the one that was willing to do and say what had to be done. That's what had gotten her to the head of her fraternity and into her current position. As much as she thought the Circle was a failure, the mages needed someone to lead the charge.

Might as well be her. Who else was it going to be, if it wasn't?

She dressed in silence, the smile she'd worn earlier erased. She overtightened the stays on her robe to make up for the lack of breakfast. It was going to be a very long day - she knew there was a pile of letters and transcripts from sendings on her desk. She was not a tactician, but they still wanted her input on their plans. She was in over her head but she wasn't about to let anyone know that.

But wasn't Loghain some sort of tactical genius? Wasn't that what the stories said? Maybe this _could_ be something more, though maybe not the more she almost let herself fall into earlier. He was sure to have advice, and it would possibly be as harsh as she needed it to be. There wasn't any more time for messing about. It was time to throw a war.

Adrian glanced back at the table and at the piece of parchment. She felt the sudden urge to take it and tuck it into her cleavage and take it with her. She bit her tongue.

_Knock it off, fool. It's time to work._

To prevent herself from taking it, she tossed it into the fireplace to join the charred remnants of her breakfast. That's where that sort of nonsense belonged.

* * *

The recruits were doing well, at least as well as was to be expected for half educated noble cast offs and laborers drafted off the streets. No one was dead or unconscious yet so that boded well for the rest of the day. Once, the Wardens only trained their own, but with the civil war and the templars distracted, there was more call for good combat instruction. The Wardens used it to their advantage - they could find those with the greatest potential early, weed out those that would fail and also help line the coffers and maintain some goodwill. It was a beneficial arrangement and one Loghain didn't mind. He'd trained soldiers for years, so this was familiar territory.

He was sweating and sore, but he felt decent enough. The constant irritation of his _urges_ was temporarily abated and with the promise of being regularly fulfilled for a while at least seemed to put him at ease.

It was probably a little foolish, but he was going to enjoy this as long as he could.

He wondered if he should just tell Adrian his suspicions, however. He knew he'd want to know the truth, but he wasn't sure about her yet. He'd have to gauge her if she decided to show at the lake tonight. It was a type of test, he knew, but it was his way. He knew she'd likely stay until the Commander officially spoke to her anyway, so it didn't harm his chances for a few weeks of companionship either way so it was more a matter of what sort of constitution she had. Loghain knew she needed to not get her hopes up in expecting this supposed negotiation to go her way. The Commander, a poncy Orlesian named Bernard who became the Commander because he was better at kissing ass than he was in a fight, was not a man of any great imagination. Loghain sincerely doubted he'd be much help to Adrian even if Weisshaupt did give him authority to help her.

It was still too early to tell who would prevail in this - either in the civil war or in this Mage-Templar conflict. The Grey Wardens needed to back whoever was going to win, not who was right or they'd end up exiled, recent Blight or no, just like they had for all those years in Ferelden. It almost cost Ferelden it's very soul. The Wardens were not going to take a chance like that again.

Morality was relative to the Wardens.

It was fairly relative to Loghain himself, he had to admit, but he did have his own code he lived by. He'd also known mages now and he couldn't help but feel sympathy for them. Were they really all that different from Ferelden under the yoke of the Orlesian throne?

It wasn't Orlais or even its people he hated, though the nobility and their games left a bad taste in his mouth. It was the politics and some bastards with more power than decency that forced honorable men like his father to live like outlaws. It just remained to be seen if the mages would be dashing rebels, criminals or only memories once the dust had settled.

The Wardens would just watch and wait and help whoever was winning with their final push, to ensure their place in the new order. But there would be individual wardens fighting on both sides, he was sure.

Loghain wondered if he was too old to fight. He also honestly wondered who he'd fight for. Sympathy wasn't really enough to sway him one way or the other. If Kya had been fighting? Or Anora had taken a position? Perhaps he'd be swayed - but Kya was not the type. She was a mage but once she became a Warden, she'd left all those politics behind. And Anora had the good sense to stay out of it, at least that was how it seemed from the news from Ferelden.

Anora thought he was dead; they both did, so he could honestly only speculate.

He considered challenging Adrian to convince him, to debate the subject. That might be novel, seeing if she knew truly what she was fighting for. She'd probably shout - she seemed the type. Shout and growl and grit her teeth and tell him he was a bloody idiot for challenging her. She'd have fire in her eyes.

He liked fire. He was pretty singed around the edges, but he didn't mind like he had as a young man.

Once, he'd surrounded himself in ice and was cold as a grave. Now? He could use some warmth in his old bones. He'd honestly expected to be dead a decade ago. He probably should have gone to the Deep Roads anyway, left the surface and went off to die in battle like something out of a story. But he was too practical for that. And he still had a use or two, training men and forcing young leaders to think.

He still wished he'd been able to do that for Cailan. He'd tried to steer the boy for years before he'd finally given up on him. Maybe he could make up for it again by pointing another little mage towards something better. He'd done well by Kya Amell, though to be honest, she'd changed him more than he'd changed her.

His vanity told him he could make a difference with Adrian, even more than he had with Kya or Cailan. He'd done a damn fine job with Anora, after all.

Granted, there were other perks involved in this particular arrangement, but somehow having an ulterior motive was comforting to him. Because frankly, he wasn't going to have another type of relationship with her. He was too old and he'd had enough heartbreak to last several lifetimes.

There was exactly no way it was a good idea. It was absurd. It was idiocy. It wasn't going to happen.


	5. Act Three: Admissions of Guilt

Loghain was waiting for her.

When Adrian came over the rise of the cliff, working her way down the path towards the little patch of sandy beach, she saw his dark silhouette boldly painted against the pale sky. Since Montsimmard was on the east of the lake, the sun seemed to disappear into the water of Lake Celestine from this vantage point. But it was a bit late for the real beauty of the sunset; the sun having already gone down below the horizon. There were still a few snips of orange and pink reflecting on the wispy clouds, but mostly it was just the pale blue grey of twilight settling down over the landscape.

On a nearby shelf of flat rock she could see a wine bottle and a pair of glasses and in the sand, an empty bottle, his boots and tunic laying askew. She squinted her eyes at him, surprised to find him barefoot in the sand in only trousers and his linen undershirt.

That seemed so..._human._

Adrian had walked barefoot on the beach once or twice over the years herself and those were fond memories. Val Royeaux bordered the Waking Sea and the shore was littered with beautiful stretches of beach, though much of the sand there was white and hard instead of the smooth black and tan here. In recent years, even before the lock down into the Spire, she hadn't made the time. Sand between her toes seemed like a fond remembrance of her own youth and didn't seem to fit the image of Loghain she'd created in her head.

She swallowed a moment of nervous tension and continued down the path, shoulders back and head high hoping she would look confident. She couldn't focus on anything but what she could gain from this. She needed the Grey Wardens. Loghain was the only warden actually willing to talk to her. If she needed to keep his attention with sex, so be it, but she would do whatever it took to get their support.

That's what she told herself anyway.

She pulled her shoulders back further and strutted down the path to Loghain, acting as if she had all the confidence in the world. If she didn't really feel it, there was no reason he had to know. She did realize that a little vulnerability seemed to please him, but she had to be smart about when to use it. It had to be on her own terms, and not the whims of her emotions.

Loghain heard her coming apparently, and slanted a glance at her over his shoulder. Adrian admired the way the fine linen of his shirt moved across the broad expanse of his back. There was a little halo of light rimming his hair from the last sunlight glinting off the water. It was a little too much like one of those novels Rhys read. She tried not to think about it.

"Adrian," he said, picking up one of the glasses from the rock nearby as he swung around to face her. "I have something for you to try."

"Oh?" Adrian replied questioningly. His manner was very relaxed, maybe a bit excessively relaxed but that might have been caused by the empty bottle next to his boots. The idea of a slightly drunk and maybe pliable Loghain immediately put her at ease. "Is this what you were drinking in the inn?"

"This is _almost _what I was asking for in the tavern. A caravan just came in today from Ferelden with something even better." His glee was surprisingly infectious. He handed the glass to her with a flourish. The liquid inside was the color of a garnet and smelled sweetly of berries.

Loghain gestured to her to take a sip and Adrian complied. It was very sweet yet strong, with a powerful tang of an unfamiliar fruit. It was possibly the best wine she'd ever tasted.

"What is this?" she asked, surprised at how wonderful it was and more than a little surprised that Loghain would be so enamored of such a sweet drink.

"It is called Morat," he said, taking another reverent sip. "Which is a surprisingly Orlesian sounding name for a Ferelden drink" He frowned a little. "It probably came about during the occupation, but I try not to think about it."

"It is ... amazing," Adrian had to admit taking another sip and swirling the liquid around in her mouth. "And maybe you should think about it." Maker, this was probably dangerous territory, but her brain made a sudden connection and she felt like she needed to follow it. "I know what happened to your homeland was a terrible thing, but I'm sure there were moments and things that happened that give some silver to that thundercloud."

Loghain was frowning hard, but he didn't speak.

"This wine, for example," Adrian continued, probably stupidly, considering his expression. "It is a sweet and wonderful thing, born of Ferelden and Orlais. Not so terrible, when they are working together instead of at odds." It looked like he was going to speak, but Adrian raised her hand to stay him. "And then there is you, such a person could never have existed without the interaction of the two molding you into who you are."

The frown nudged into scowl territory.

"I cannot imagine a reason why that is a good thing," he snapped at her. "You are young; young enough to not have known the true impact of the occupation. You are also Orlesian, so you were not there to see the damage done to Ferelden. You did not see the countryside filled with dead husbands and wives and children." He took a deep breath. "So I will not fault you for trying, but let me assure you that there was nothing good that came of the occupation. I would rather I and this wine not even exist if it meant that those horrors would have never happened."

Adrian's idea of seducing Loghain into helping her went right down the privy.

She knew a lot of terrible things happened during the occupation. How it did not occur to her than a man that threw himself into the fight in the most spectacular way, the Maker blasted Hero of River Dane, would not have a horror story of his own? She swallowed the rest of the wine in her glass. Despite being sweet, it burned on the way down.

"Oh Maker, I am...beyond idiocy," she said quietly. She was tempted to reach out and touch him, but she had a feeling he wouldn't welcome it. She balled up her fist instead and let her nails bite into the palm of her hand. "I wanted...I just wanted to find a way to allude that perhaps you and I could work together. I didn't..."

Loghain shook his head. "I know. But there are some things..." He looked away from her, staring off over the water at the dying light.

"Is there...can you ever forgive me for being insensitive?"

He didn't look at her when he replied. "Yes, but we'll need to finish this bottle first."

Adrian cringed. "I am so sorry..." He cut her off.

"Don't," he said, still not turning to face her. Adrian's cheeks were burning. Loghain's face in profile was white as bleached bone. "You don't need to apologize to me. I think I've hated Orlais enough...you didn't see me, know me ten years ago when I let my unending paranoia nearly allow the darkspawn to swallow Ferelden whole. Yet, I think about the occupation and I remember...my mother, my father, my mabari...and I still can't think straight."

He quickly downed the rest of his glass and refilled it and hers, reassuring Adrian that she hadn't completely botched everything. She'd been so worried about her place in this that she'd completely forgot she was coming to meet a person here on this beach. Not to mention, a person with a history that was more than just some half remembered stories.

He drank the glass of wine so fast she wondered it he'd even tasted it.

"Let me tell you a story," he said, his words carefully enunciated. Too carefully.

She was not sure what to say to any of this, odd feeling as it was, but she was all ears for anything he had to say. She owed him that much for blundering into such sensitive territory. "Please do."

"Both my parents, all my family in fact, and even my childhood mabari were murdered by occupying Orlesians, some of whom were as born and bred in Ferelden as I was. The only difference was what side of an imaginary line we were on."

It was a statement of fact, delivered with such cold precision that Adrian shuddered. Loghain's face was completely devoid of expression.

"I have now lived in Orlais as a Grey Warden for ten years. In that time, I've tried to reconcile my carefully tended hatred with the world around me. I've come to realize that line was even more arbitrary than I realized. It was about who had the money and therefore the power. On each side of the line there were monsters and saints."

His face fell a bit at that last bit. Adrian wasn't sure what that meant until he continued.

"But that was the bit I didn't realize in my youth. Though I still hold fast that Ferelden deserves its hard earned freedom, I believed that the only difference between a saint and a monster was which side of the line they stood on. During the Blight, I ignored my own honor and stood staunchly on what I saw as the right side of the line...yet still became a monster." Loghain cleared his throat.

He didn't pause long enough for Adrian to speak, not that she had the faintest idea what to say. He was just spilling his guts, as if she was a trusted confidante and not a barely new acquaintance he'd happened to bed.

"I sold men into slavery. I could say I sold _elves _as if that somehow justifies my actions. But before the Blight and the war I'd never thought of elves as any different than I was. Though they lived in the alienages, that was not by decree or law here in Ferelden, it was by choice, even during the occupation. I led a company of elves and archers - their eyesight was better in the dark and their skills were beyond reproach. I trusted them with my life and never for one moment did I think less of them than any other man. Yet when the moment came, I signed the papers and sold them into lives of servitude in Tevinter." He sighed again, shaking his head. "I told myself 'at least they will survive' but I knew it was a lie, even then. I fought for my own freedom. Surviving isn't enough."

Finally, he turned his face towards her. He seemed to inspect her, the furrow between his eyes brows deeply shadowed.

"Once, I shouted at a room full of noblemen and the few Grey Wardens left in Ferelden. I dared them to judge me, since none of them had sacrificed more for Ferelden than I had. But they were right and I was a fool. I became everything that is wrong in the world in my attempt to save it. So don't...apologize to me, for any of it." He shook his head. "I had no right."

She'd heard about this, among other things. There were plenty of Orlesians happy to smear his name. All in all, the majority still thought of him as a romantic figure, but he was tarnished now and there was no point in denying it.

Then again, Adrian herself was hardly polished to a high shine.

"It sounds to me like you were desperate," she said. "For whatever reason, you thought you were all that stood between your..._beloved_ and ruin. Whether that love was a place or a cause or a woman should hardly matter."

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you are the type of woman who would know that the ends can be used to justify the means. I am sure you didn't rise to the top of the tower by looks alone, as adorable as you are." He tried to smile a little, but it didn't have the ring of sincerity about it.

"No, I didn't. I would say it was by a lucky application of artifice and attrition," she admitted. "I could tell you a story of my own, more personal than national, but the same none the less. Though I admit I'm not certain I am as brave as you are to tell it."

"I'm not brave, I'm drunk," Loghain said, picking up the bottle in swirling the last dregs of wine in the bottom of the bottle. "When it comes time for my Calling, I plan on being drunk the entire time. I was drunk on love the last time I thought to go, but that's...only a memory now."

"Your Calling?" Adrian was perplexed, about both this _Calling_ business and the _love_ even more so, though one thing at a time. He waved her question away.

"Not important," he said making it clear he wasn't going to explain that bit further. "Tell me your story. I'm in no position to judge you."

"I murdered a Tranquil." She spit it out like a curse. Loghain raised an eyebrow.

"Cold blooded murder doesn't seem your type of fun." He was droll.

"No, no it's not." Adrian really didn't want to continue. She knew it had to be done, but with more distance between the heat of the moment and now, it was easier to see her guilt and not the need that drove her to it. "And perhaps _euthanized_ is the more appropriate word, since the man begged me to do it. But that's hardly the true crime, though I'm sure if the Lord Seeker was aware, he'd happily tack it on to the list of crimes he plans to execute me for."

"Seekers sound like Grey Wardens, except with more crazy." He was right about that.

Adrian cracked a smile. "They are obsessed and insane, but they aren't totally wrong about me. You see, I needed the Aequitarians to agree to cede from the rule of the Chantry. Without them, I didn't have the numbers to fight. But Wynne would not budge. I started to hate her stubborn cool."

"She could certainly hold an opinion to the depths of the black City, that woman," Loghain added.

"I needed to force her hand. There was no other way," Adrian continued. And then, there it was. "So I killed the Tranquil and framed Wynne's son for the deed. Which would be bad enough, but that he was my best friend and once upon a time my lover. I betrayed him to the templars and risked his life to get Wynne to support my cause. And what's worse, instead of her support, she ended up giving her life to save a templar...the templar who Rhys had fallen in love with during our...," she snorted. "..._Adventures_ all while happily falling out of love with me." She stopped, shook her head. "Though that's probably indulgent. He'd been out of love with me for some time. I'm not the type for that sort of business."

"I'm sure you're quite lovable," Loghain said. "Though any son of Wynne's was bound to be a bit too squeamish for a girl like you."

"I doubt that's a compliment," Adrian groused. He smiled this time.

"Maybe not," he admitted. "But your practicality is more appealing to me that any insincere display of guilt would be. Perhaps you can understand how I feel more than most. I did monstrous things during the Blight, but I would not take them back. Any step taken differently and perhaps the darkspawn would have had us all, just like you know that Wynne's life and your friendship with her son were sacrifices that had to be made in the name of your freedom."

"I should feel terrible," Adrian said. "But I don't and I think I _do_ feel terrible about that."

"I understand completely." Loghain drank the last bit of wine from the bottle and frowned at the empty glass. It was nearly dark now, so she couldn't really see his face.

Whatever she'd hoped for, well, it had included a desire for a promise to help review maps in the morning, after she successfully exhausted him. A part of her was even more interested in that now; this commonality of failed morals made her feel a deeper connection to him. The sharing of transgressions made for an interesting bond. She wished she could see his face and read his expression to see if he felt the same.

"I could use another drink," he said, dropping the bottle into the sand. "But since that's no longer an option, maybe I'll bend you over this rock instead and see if I can punish both of us for our misdeeds."

_Well._ Apparently he did.


End file.
